Uniform', Not Predictable
by Tamer Lorika
Summary: Italy knows that he is lazy and weak and never gets much done but that, really, cannot be his own fault. Not if Germany insists on doing... well, THAT... Its PWP, you know.


**Oh yeah, I TOTALLY KNOW what I'm doing… not… **

**This is for Okami no Kokoro for the sexy picture she drew on the back of our theatre program so that I could scar the tech boys forever with pictures of GermanyxSwitzerland. Thank you for waiting, and I really hope you like it!**

**Anyway, I know you can see it coming a mile away, but horrible, shameless PWP. Please, I don't even **_**pretend**_** to have a plot. Just have fun?**

There was a reason Italy never got any work done.

It was a really, really good reason, too – its wasn't just laziness, or a belly full of pasta, or lack of stamina (although those did play a part, no one could deny). No, the reason was actually Germany. GermanyGermanyGermany. Or rather, it had more to do with the times and the war and what _Germany_ wore but really it wasn't Italy's fault at all.

Italy was laying on his back in the grass on the training field, just relaxing. It was siesta time, after all, and Germany said they wouldn't have to train until afterwards because he had paperwork. In all, the slightly frightening man was actually a very good boyfriend.

The sun was warm but it wasn't too hot, and there was a faint breeze that breathed spirals into the long grass. Italy breathed in the scent of cool early summer and sank deeper towards sleep.

He twitched faintly, however, as the sun was blocked out by a solid body. The body leaned over slowly, kissing him on the forehead. Oh, it was only Germany. Italy opened his eyes reluctantly, knowing siesta time was over.

"Italia, time to get up. We have some daylight left, and I want to work on windsprints."

Ew.

"But, Germany~~ I don't wanna~ … ve…." Italy stopped in the middle of his whining and blushed. Cazzo, there it was again. Didn't Germany understand what it did to him?!

"It" referred to the uniform. Damn. Damndamndamn that uniform, especially in the summer. The light, green linen was unbuttoned in the faint heat and hung open to reveal the black tank underneath, all tight and loose and hints of tantalizing collarbone. Germany's green pants were tucked into black boots that seemed to accentuate powerful legs. His hair was slicked back perfectly, as always, now half-hidden by his cap. If Italy was going to be honest – and he was nothing if not honest – it was ridiculously sexy.

So of course the only sane option was to jump him. In less time than it took to swear, Germany found himself on his back in the grass with a very hot-and-bothered looking Italy on top of him. Well… this was certainly new…

"I-Italia!" Germany found himself blushing, then cursing the pinkness and heat. Men did _not_ blush. Men especially did not blush with other men on top of them. Even if the "other men" really meant Italy. Who happened to be his boyfriend. It was the _principle_ of the thing.

"Germany you have to stop wearing that!" mumbled Italy in frustration. He kissed Germany forcefully, drowning out any protest. It was weak protest anyway. If Germany was going to honest with himself – and he hardly ever was – all he had really wanted all day was to fuck Italy into the bed. Training was just a way to take his mind off that. And now that he was successfully pinned to the ground (_You are _not_ pinned, you pansy, you could pick him up right now _his treacherous mind supplied) there was really no arguing to be done.

However, he was a little confused.

"Wearing… what?" Germany asked, breaking away from the kiss.

"This! This … thing! The uniform!" Italy said breathlessly, twisting his fingers in the fabric. "You look too good. Stop it!"

Germany blinked. Italy had a uniform kink? Well, that was new. He could use this.

"If you wanted me to, I suppose I could take it off…" He snuck his hands between their bodies, beginning to undo his uniform pants and "accidentally" brushing Italy's crotch in the process. Italy moaned, biting his lip. Germany raised an eyebrow. His lover was already hard? He really _did_ have a thing for uniforms.

"Nonononono don't do that!" Italy whined. He was already lightheaded and aching with need; really, this was why _nothing_ ever got done! But he desperately, illogically, wanted Germany to keep that sexy outfit _on_.

"Well, I don't see how I can help you then," said Germany bemusedly, knowing that even though he was on the bottom, he had control of the whole situation.

"Yes, but…" absently, Italy ran his fingers down Germany's chest, feeling toned muscle through the thin black undershirt. "Germany… mmm I want you to do something for me pleasepleasepleaseplease…." He bent down, kissing Germany's chest through the fabric and moving down his body. "If you do, I'll…" his kisses reached already half-open trousers and his lips lingered tantalizingly at his pants hem. "I'll give you a treat, I promise."

Germany felt himself shiver, knowing that Italy was offering to suck him off and wanting it very, very much. The nation was amazing with his lips and tongue and could deep-throat him easily and it sounded wonderful. And Italy was in such a… mood… that whatever he wanted Germany to do in exchange would not last long. Italy was not known for patience.

"Of course, mein Liebe" he agreed quickly. "What do you want from me?"

Italy slipped back, removing himself from Germany's clothed erection. "Germany, please, touch yourself."

Germany's eyes widened hugely and he stared at Italy's face. "W-was?" he stuttered in German, blushing again. Italy stared back, gaze half-hooded and completely needy.

"Mmm… I want to see you get hard. I want to watch your strong hands and your flushed face… I wanna see it all…"

Germany kept his eyes locked on Italy's and he slipped a hand inside his pants. Italy gasped in concert with him, watching as Germany's body tensed at the first contact with his own member. The large blonde's hands began to move quickly and he bucked his hips in time, the other hand pushing up his undershirt and revealing the cut planes of his chest. Italy's mouth hung open as he watched, hand sneaking to his own member as he watched the show. His eyes swept across Germany's whole body, his now-wrinkled uniform still giving off the image of military discipline, but now mixed with the erotic vision of Germany pleasuring himself, eyes slipping half-closed and mouth open and panting, saliva running down the corner of his cheeks. It was so rare to see Germany so wanton. Italy was overwhelmed with the picture. He leaned into the exposed bit of Germany's chest and stomach, running his nose along the sensitive skin and down, to Germany's frantically working hands.

"You are… so sexy…" Italy moaned into his stomach. "Thank you…" He removed his fingers from his own length and placed them over Germany's digits, gently pulling them away. And, with a smirk in his lover's direction, he went down on him, kissing and licking the exposed shaft with practiced ease. Germany leaned back heavily on his palms, quickly brushing sweaty strands of blonde hair out of his face.

"I-Italia…" he stuttered. "Y-you should have told me about the u-uniform thing b-before."

Italy pulled away from Germany's length for a brief moment, a strand of saliva connecting his lips and Germany's cock in an obscene string. He didn't speak, only smiled in a way that sent a shudder rocking through Germany's whole body. He opened his mouth, letting Germany's cockhead rest on his tongue before engulfing it as much as he could.

Germany moaned lowly, mind blanking for a moment. It was _so good_… Italy's long fingers played skillfully along the portions of the shaft he could not swallow and his tongue swirled around its tip.

"Italy…" Germany groaned, trying to get his lover's attention. If this did not stop, now, he was going to come. "I-Italy…" he slipped his hand into Italy's hair, meaning to pull him away, restraining himself from pulling him closer and using that beautiful mouth as he wanted.

Luckily, Italy seemed to understand what he was thinking. He pulled away almost completely, sucking teasingly at the tip of Germany's cock before letting it fall from his lips.

"Y-yeah, Doitsu?" he asked breathlessly, respiration coming in gasps as he tried to refill his lungs. He was dizzy with arousal, staring at the prize before him. Germany was propped on his palms, his head thrown back and cap on the ground, hair that had been groomed so carefully that morning now in sweaty disarray. His half-open jacket hung deliciously off his shoulders, and his cock, red and hard and slick, was exposed to the open air, just barely above his unzipped trousers. It was wrong and sinful and so amazingly sexy and Italy licked his swollen lips, trying to preserve the taste of Germany upon them.

"Italia, on your back, now," Germany ordered, unable to suppress a quiver of need in his voice. Italy heard it, smirked, or tried to; but his own expression wavered with the naked lust visible in Germany's visage and he did as he was told, easily unbuttoning his own trousers and slipping off his boots. Before he could gasp, Germany was upon him – his tongue and teeth attacking Italy's neck, his hips grinding against the bare flesh Italy was exposing. Italy was about to cry out for _moremoremore_ but was gagged as long, thick fingers were slipped into his mouth. His eyes widened, then he understood, proceeding to lick along them just as he had done to Germany's erection. Germany closed his eyes as he let out a grunt, wanting so badly to take him here, now. He would not do that to his Italy – though the preparation they were undertaking now would hardly be sufficient – but he would not do it dry, not now, not ever, not if it mean hurting his lover. Even if he very much wanted to fuck him _now_.

Italy refused to close his eyes, even as the fingers were removed from his mouth and one began to gently penetrate his entrance. The sting was there, not prominent, but there, and by now he would usually have his eyes tightly shut, fingers clenched into bedsheet or shoulder but for now he wanted to drink everything in, every obscene thing that Germany's beautiful form did to his body. He gasped out loud as another finger was added, catching a little on dry skin and friction, but kept his eyelids open. A third finger was added and this time Italy let out a little cry and Germany locked eyes with him.

There was definitely guilt in his expression, Italy could tell immediately, but he reached up and grabbed Germany by the back of the neck and pulled him so that his lips were at Germany's ear and he whispered "I need you inside of me. Now". The shudder that wracked Germany traveled through his whole frame, down even to the fingers currently inside of Italy. He mewled again as Germany withdrew them, placing a gentle hand on the inside of Italy's naked thigh and positioning himself .

"Italia…" he murmured, sliding inside, slowly, slowly, pausing with every tremble of Italy's muscles. "You… are so beautiful."

Italy had the gall to _giggle_, a shaky, breathless laugh but a laugh all the same. "I could say the same of you – ah!"

Germany was fully sheathed inside, and the was moving now, as carefully as he could but very quickly losing self control with the feeling of a willing body below him, around him. He was still frightened of hurting his lover, but with his next thrust, Italy arched his back slightly, rolling his hips and meeting him so that he went deeper.

"There!" Italy whisper-screamed, voice half-gone with pleasure. Germany thrust again, harder this time, meeting Italy's willing hips and hitting the same spot, again, again, each movement harder than the last, faster, more erratic and untimed but each bringing Germany closer, closer, closer and Italy watched it all, every emotion spasming across the German's normally staid face as his own eyes stared, half-mast and needy and drinking in the sight, so much better than just feeling, so much better than just hearing.

"Italy, I don't… I'm going to…"

He could not finish the sentence, releasing into Italy as he let out a rumbling growl of pleasure. Italy himself relished in the sudden heat and completeness and let himself come as well.

"Germany…" he whined, then gasped and stiffened. He had just come on their stomachs – both still covered in cloth. Uniforms.

"Doitsu, I'm so sorry!" he said, sitting up in a panic and knocking Germany to the side. "Oh, no, I'm sorry, I ruined your shirt, I ruined your shirt!"

_And yours as well_ Germany thought, brain not computing precisely, after what he had just… what he had just… "Stains will wash out…" he said, fighting his voice to be calm. This had certainly not been the first time that he and Italy had been… intimate… but the _uniform_ thing, and…. And they were in the middle of the training field! And… and Italy had been so flushed and bothered and hot that he could barely stand it.

"Stains will come out," he repeated, resigning himself to calming down Italy. He sat up, pulling the squirming, fidgeting body before him against him, despite the messy state that they were both in. "For now… we cannot stay here. Let's just go home, okay?"

Italy nodded his head against Germany's shoulder. "Yes, lets do that." Cuddling could not be properly undertaken on the training field. Sure, the uniform may have been sexy, but… but now Italy wanted Germany naked and in his arms, and he was going to get it, too!


End file.
